Brewing Glory
by Lomonaaeren
Summary: HPSS. Twoshot. Harry never thought he would need help to take his Potions NEWT, but Kingsley is being scrupulously fair, and Slughorn is uncomfortable for Harry to work with. So he reluctantly begins to study with Snape. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Brewing Glory  
 **Disclaimer:** J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.  
 **Pairing:** Harry/Severus  
 **Content Notes:** Angst, AU in which Severus is alive  
 **Rating:** R  
 **Wordcount:** This part 3500  
 **Summary** : Harry never thought his lack of a Potions NEWT would conspire against him getting into the Aurors, but Kingsley is being scrupulously fair. And with Slughorn citing teaching duties and the severe lack of other great brewers Harry knows personally, he reluctantly begins to study with Snape.  
 **Author's Notes:** This is another of my "From Samhain to the Solstice" fics, for jtsbbsps_dk, who requested Harry needing to receive his Potions NEWT and Snape having to be the one to teach him. The title, of course, is from Snape's speech at the beginning of PS. There will be a second part to this tomorrow.

 **Brewing Glory**

Harry stood in front of the door to the small cottage and stared at it gloomily. He didn't like doing this. He _hated_ asking favors of people. So many of them fell over themselves to offer him time and friendship and adulation as it was.

But he had sent an owl a week ago, and received a curt two-word answer: _Come, then._ He raised the knocker, shaped like an ouroboros, and brought it down.

The door opened before the echo had even faded. Harry blinked at the Snape on the other side of the door. He had short, utterly clean black hair, and a long series of scars on the side of his throat that looked almost like shark gills. But his sour expression was the same as ever.

"Come in, then."

Harry stepped carefully inside. The cottage was filled with photographs, vials, books, shelves, small tables, dangling fringed tapestries, and all sorts of other things that must have been in Snape's quarters at Hogwarts. He waited with his hands behind his back, half-afraid of bumping into something.

"I don't have much time this morning, Potter. Why are you here?"

"Because I need to pass my Potions NEWT."

Snape narrowed his eyes at him. "I brew potions, not miracles."

Harry clasped his hands tighter behind his back. He'd grown in the past year, when he'd had to attend funerals of people with powerful relatives and testify in trials and rebuild Hogwarts next to people he'd once hated. "I know that, sir. But I did receive an Exceeds Expectations on my Potions OWL. What I need to concentrate on are the potions I would have learned in my seventh year, and general reinforcement of my skills."

Snape was silent for a long time. Harry studied him from beneath lowered eyelashes. He looked—well, still sour, yes, but a little more relaxed. That he hadn't thrown Harry out already was proof of that.

"You received the marks you did in sixth year because you were cheating."

"Yes, sir."

"You need to learn to work under pressure greater than you received in _my_ classes. There will be times that you need to brew in the field."

"Yes, sir."

"What mark will you find acceptable on the NEWT?"

Harry blinked, wondering if that was a trick question. Acceptable was passing, after all. Then he realized that Snape had asked him a more personal question. "I want an Outstanding, sir," he said honestly. "I don't know if I can achieve that. But I want to try."

Snape tapped his fingers on one of the tapestries, which proved that it wasn't going to burst into flames when someone touched it after all. It showed a fiery creature that might be either a phoenix or a dragon ascending into the air. "I owe you a debt for saving my life. This is the end of it. I will give you an Outstanding, and you will cease to make demands of me."

Harry clenched his teeth. He hadn't made any demands of Snape in the last year at all. He had saved his life, defended him through the necessary trial, and then ceased to have contact with him until he sent him this owl.

But he nodded. "Agreed, sir."

Snape narrowed his eyes. "You are going to work harder than you ever have in your academic life, Potter."

"I'm prepared, sir."

"We'll see."

And with that ominous statement, Harry's Potions instruction began.

* * *

"It is perfectly simple, Potter. What clearer words do you need for me to _explain_ this to you?"

Harry didn't react, instead staring critically down at the mess in the cauldron. In fact, Snape's instructions had been so much less than clear that Harry didn't have any idea whether he was dicing or chopping these ingredients. And so he had ended up with a green sludge-like mess that might at any moment develop the power to climb out of the cauldron and eat him.

He waited until Snape wound down from the yelling. Then he looked up and asked, "Should I have diced or chopped the kelp, sir?"

"I cannot _believe_ that you are asking me this question."

"I'm aware, sir." Harry kept his voices perfectly level. "It's still a question I have."

Snape paused. Then he turned away and picked up a piece of parchment with ingredients and instructions written on it, which he hadn't allowed Harry to see. Harry stifled the temptation to snatch the parchment out of Snape's hands.

"It says chopped," Snape murmured after a long moment.

"That why did the instructions you gave me not say that?"

Snape turned and gave him such a terrifying look that it would have made Harry run for his life if he was still in sixth year. But he wasn't in sixth year, and he had survived a bloody war, and he would remember that even if Snape wouldn't. Harry stood and stared at him until Snape made a low ugly sound with his mouth and turned away again.

"I cannot be held responsible for you not understanding my instructions."

Harry picked up the parchment that Snape had given him and handed it over. Snape's eyes skimmed over the sentences, and then he smiled with half his mouth. "Nowhere in here did I use the word "dice," Potter."

"No, you said, 'Cut it up.' How was I supposed to know which one you mean?"

"I have brewed the Panacea Potion six thousand times!"

"So that excuses you for giving me the wrong instructions?"

Snape abruptly turned away and paced towards the other side of the room, his head lowered. Harry stood ready to leave, and then reeled himself sternly back in. He still had to pass the NEWT, and Slughorn was still unacceptable.

"It means," Snape said finally, "that I never thought to clarify the instructions, because _I_ knew what they meant."

Harry paused. He had never expected even that much of an apology. Actually, it was more of an explanation than an apology, but one that steadied him, because it meant he understood Snape's motivations as well as everything else.

"All right," Harry finally murmured. "Why do you need to chop the kelp here instead of dicing it, sir?"

Snape gave him the kind of look Harry thought best reserved for Death Eaters. Harry still held onto his temper. _You matured even if he didn't, you don't need to let him control you,_ he repeated to himself over and over.

"You chop it," Snape answered at last, "because irregular lengths are more effective at spreading the magic through the potion than uniform ones."

And Harry relaxed, and one hurdle was jumped.

* * *

"I want to know if you have the patience to brew Veritaserum."

Harry could have protested that he wouldn't be brewing Veritaserum for the Potions NEWT. It took a month to mature. Not even the most patient examiners were going to assign something like that.

But he had accepted the challenge from Snape without a word. He had gone home, and studied the notes that Snape had given him, and the instructions in the Potions books. He wished he still had the Half-Blood Prince's notes, but the book had undoubtedly burned with all the other objects in the Room of Hidden Things.

The Half-Blood Prince. Snape was the Half-Blood Prince. And that bastard's notes had taught him more about potions than Harry would have ever learned otherwise.

Harry thought about that while he was crushing moonstones and throwing them in the cauldron, and waiting for the precise moment of the moon cycle when he could work on brewing Veritaserum some more, and casting Stasis Charms until he knew he could do it with his eyes closed. He should have thought of it before. Snape was as precise and fussy as ever, and unhappy about helping Harry, but he was still the Half-Blood Prince.

That let Harry reach for a motivation he had thought had withered away years ago: the desire to impress his Potions professor.

He didn't think about avoiding scathing comments or anything like that. Not only was it an unworthy ambition, he honestly didn't think he was capable of it. Snape disciplined people in the classroom for annoying him or not ignoring the Slytherins well enough. No, Harry would work on what he could control: his own reactions.

He didn't flinch when Snape sneered at him, and went on performing the steps and nodding when he found the errors in his notes. Sometimes he glanced up to see Snape watching him with a peculiar look on his face, but then it would fade and he would bark something else.

"Don't cast the Stasis Charm like _that_ , Potter!"

"Don't let those leaves fall in the cauldron!"

"What are you _thinking_ , leaving those dandelion roots so near the quicksilver?"

"It's as if you _want_ me to take House points when there are none to take."

There was information in there, even if it was only information on Snape's mood that day. Harry learned what to avoid, and what to study in the books. And he had the satisfaction at the end of the month of stepping back from the cauldron of Veritaserum and smiling at it.

He looked over his shoulder at Snape, wondering if the man would find a way to snap at him even with what he had done. But Snape stood blank-faced, staring at the cauldron as if he thought it would fly into the air and explode.

Then he turned to Harry and nodded. "That is well done, Potter," he said, his face stitched by the shadows of the flickering fire.

And Harry caught his breath, and something soft and warm blossomed to life in his heart.

* * *

After that, Harry worked harder than ever.

Of course, Snape was teaching him potions that would more than likely be on the NEWT exam now, and that meant he _demanded_ more work. Harry had to be able to read crabbed instructions at a glance, to know in an instant that dew gathered from a spider's web at full moon was different from the same dew gathered from the same web at the dark of the moon, that re'em blood would react with gold dust _before_ it happened. It involved more memorization than he had ever hoped for.

But it didn't matter. He was also working to impress Snape, and now he knew it was _possible_. This man and the Half-Blood Prince were one and the same? Then Harry wished to be worthy of their attention.

He glanced over his shoulder at one point and found Snape's eyes fixed on him with a faint frown marring the man's brow, as though he didn't know where Harry was getting this stamina. Harry bowed his head and kept working on the Draught of Wisdom in the cauldron before him, the softness and warmth striking through him again.

"Potter!"

The sharp word was meant to interrupt him, Harry knew. But now that he knew _why_ , it made all the difference. He stepped back smartly and cast the Stasis Charm with a flick of his fingers, freezing the Draught of Wisdom so that no harm could come to it. "Yes, sir?"

"What are you doing?"

"Brewing, sir."

Snape came up and stalked around him, staring him in the eye. Harry stared back boldly. He knew that Snape might use Legilimency to slip into his mind and read his thoughts. Harry hoped he did. It would surprise him, and Harry would get to see another expression on Snape's face that he'd never seen there before.

"That was wandless magic," Snape said, turning around to regard the cauldron under the Stasis Charm.

"Yes, sir." Harry twisted his head a little to the side as Snape whipped around to face him. "I've been practicing it long enough that it doesn't make sense to use my wand, sir."

"And do you have the _slightest_ idea of how the Draught of Wisdom reacts to wandless magic?"

"Not at all, sir—"

" _Ha_!"

"I mean the potion doesn't react at all, sir. The bicorn hoof shards in it keep it magically inert when it comes to the method of casting the spell."

Snape stared at him with his hands planted on his hips, then turned towards the cauldron once more. He drew his own wand. Harry watched narrowly. If Snape ended the Stasis Charm, then Harry would need to cast another one at once. Even a moment's hesitation would be fatal to the success of the potion.

But Snape only studied the cauldron from a few different angles, the wand twitching in his hand, before he hissed explosively and put it away. "You are getting instruction from someone else," he said, still turned away. "You must be, or you would not be succeeding so well. Why do you not merely study under them and leave me alone?"

Harry blinked. "I'm only reading the books and studying the recipes that you assign me, sir. Well, and I'm reading extra books on magical creatures and plants to understand the ingredients better."

Snape glanced over his shoulder. "I did not tell you to do that."

"No, but it seemed the obvious next step, sir."

Snape frowned at that. "Most of my students never get that far."

"Most of them are younger than I am, sir," Harry said diplomatically. He wasn't going to say that he was a great brewer, because he knew he probably never would be. And Snape might react negatively to those words, anyway.

It was becoming a matter of importance to Harry that Snape _not_ react negatively to him.

Snape stalked a few steps towards him. Harry didn't feel the brush of Legilimency against his mind, but then, he never had as a student before his Occlumency lessons, either. What he _did_ know was that Snape's direct gaze was fixed on him, and it was thrilling.

Snape didn't stop walking towards him until he was only a few inches away. Then he bent down and breathed, "I think you are lying, Potter."

Harry glanced to the side. It took him a moment of searching to find it, but there was the vial of Veritaserum he had brewed, sitting among the others on Snape's shelves. "Why not use the appropriate potion on me and find out if I'm telling you the truth, sir?"

Snape was working hard, obviously, to prevent his jaw from falling. " _You_ ," he said, his voice thick with disbelief, "would willingly undergo interrogation by Veritaserum."

"Only by you. I trust you, sir."

Snape stood there for a second as if he thought that he might wake up from a dream. Then he stalked over to the shelf and pulled down the vial of Veritaserum. He studied it as he returned to Harry.

"I have not tested it," he murmured. "For all I know, it might make you explode or turn into a frog. You _did_ brew it, after all."

"Then you can say that I was well-warned, sir."

Snape still eyed him dubiously as he took out a small stirring rod, dipped it into the potion, and placed three drops on Harry's tongue, but Harry ignored that. He swallowed, and the world went soft and fuzzy. Snape shoved a chair behind him, and Harry dropped into it and found himself staring at the ceiling. He'd never noticed before what an interesting pattern of cracks it had in it.

"What is your name?"

"Harry James Potter."

"Why did you come to me?"

"To get a good mark on my Potions NEWT." Harry found himself responding to the questions as if telling the truth was the most natural thing in the world. Well, he knew his name and he knew the reason that he'd come to Snape. He passively waited for the man to ask him something really difficult, a complicated question that he would have to give multiple answers to.

"And did you read the extra books that you claim you read, to acquire advanced knowledge of Potions?"

"Yes, I did."

There was a long pause. Harry felt a vague disappointment that he was probably not going to get asked more complicated questions after all. He tried to open his mouth and suggest some, but it was as if the potion had sealed his jaws shut. He couldn't speak, couldn't do anything but sit in the chair and blink vaguely at things.

Snape finally asked, with a noise like a low snarl, "What is your goal now? Is it still the same as the one you started with?"

"To gain your respect. No."

Snape paused this time as if he was stunned, not as if he was struggling to come up with questions. "Why do you want my respect?" he finally asked.

"It's not like it was in school, when I never thought I'd get it. I know that you can give it to me. And I want to impress you. I want you to see me as someone close to an equal, the way you never would have when I was a student."

Abruptly, Snape opened his jaw and forced the antidote down his throat. Harry swallowed through the thick fuzziness and moved his tongue around. It was a relief to know that the weight that had kept him from speaking was gone.

"You cannot mean what you said."

Snape was standing on the other side of the room, his arms folded. "You heard me speak the truth, sir," Harry said, watching him carefully. Would not even the truth potion convince Snape? That was disappointing, and Harry wondered what other tactic he could use.

Snape bared his teeth. "Veritaserum makes you speak what you _believe_ to be the truth, Potter, no more than that. And you _believe_ that you want to gain my respect. If you think about it, I'm sure that you will see you are both desperate and pathetic."

Harry restrained the impulse to snap something. "Why?"

Snape gestured sharply, making his sleeve flap. " _Look_ at me!"

"I honestly don't notice the scars any more, sir. I'm sure that no one would who actually spent time around you."

Snape stalked towards him and shoved his nose forwards so that Harry had to lean back in his chair a little. "You are making fun of me, Potter," he hissed.

"No," Harry said. "I promise, sir. I've come to respect you a lot more now that I can see what the foundations of your knowledge are and that I realize there were more reasons for being careful in Potions class than I ever thought there were. I'm not lying about that. I promise."

Snape's hands clenched, and then he went for another stalk around Harry. Harry enjoyed the time to just sit still and recover. The Veritaserum had made his head spin a lot more than he'd ever thought it could. He tilted his head back and breathed a little.

Snape's voice sounded from closer than he'd expected it to, right next to his ear, making him jump. Snape only looked amused about that, of course. "Have you ever _seriously_ thought that I would see you again after your Potions NEWT is passed?"

Harry blinked a few times. Snape hadn't asked him any questions about that under the Veritaserum. "I was hoping that we might meet up afterwards," he said slowly. It was true. "But if you don't want to, I certainly can't force you."

For some reason, Snape stepped back and looked offended about that. "Of course you could not _force_ me, Potter."

"Then what's the problem?"

"You are staring at me with an odd expression that is not perfectly respect, Potter. If I find this is another joke…"

"Not a joke, sir. But I know that you probably don't respect me in return, and you don't expect me to be an impressive Potions student. That's what I'm trying to change."

Snape stared. Harry waited. If Snape did decide this was all an elaborate joke, Harry couldn't stop him from throwing Harry out, either. Harry would hate for that to happen, but he did think he knew enough now to pass the NEWT.

He just wanted to spend more time with Snape, that was all, and he wasn't even entirely sure how he would defend that desire. He just knew it was what he wanted.

"Get out for today, Potter," Snape said at last. "Come back tomorrow."

It was a better result than Harry could have hoped for, given that Snape had started out the conversation sure that Harry was mocking him. Harry rose, inclined his head in what he hoped was the right angle for a respectful bow, and quietly left the room.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you again for all the reviews! This is the last of my From Samhain to the Solstice fics. If I didn't get around to a suggested idea, I will probably write it during my summer series of fics.

 _Part Two_

He woke the next morning with a pounding headache, and he knew enough about Potions interactions now to recognize that he was probably allergic to one of the Veritaserum ingredients. "Delayed fucking reaction," Harry muttered as he stared at himself in the mirror and watched the swimming white circles that seemed to hover in the middle of his forehead as his vision went in and out.

But Snape had said to be there. Harry didn't trust himself to Apparate, so he had Kreacher bring him to the outer boundaries of Snape's cottage wards and then walked the rest of the way. He had to stop and lean against a tree, head bowed. The world was turning dark at the edges of his vision now.

"Potter! What is wrong with you?"

Harry lifted his head and tried to focus on Snape. He could only really track the direction of his voice, though. "A reaction to one of the Veritaserum ingredients, sir," he muttered. "Sorry."

Snape sounded as if he paused, although Harry really couldn't see him anymore. "Headache? Tunneling vision?"

Harry nodded. "And a series of white circles on my forehead when I could still see," he murmured, closing his eyes completely. "Or what looked like them, anyway."

Snape cursed and grabbed his arm, steering Harry the last few steps to the cottage. Harry reached out and felt the edge of the doorway, and sighed with relief. There was a small bench to the side of the door that Snape used for storing boots in winter. He could collapse there.

But Snape mercilessly marched him past it and pushed him into what felt like one of the expansive drawing room chairs. Harry clutched at the arms in surprise as Snape pushed him down, but Snape ignored how ridiculous he must look. "Why did you come today, Potter?" His voice was tight.

Harry blinked up at him as much as he could when Snape might actually be standing across the room. "Because you said I should."

Snape stalked away, muttering. There was something in there about Harry only obeying him when it was dangerous, which he should have "bloody expected." Harry smiled faintly and closed his eyes. He thought he would be okay if he could just rest a bit.

He might have dozed for a few minutes before Snape woke him with a sharp shake to the shoulder and something that smelled like old socks. Harry sniffed at it in resignation as Snape guided his hands around the mug. "Granite shavings and powdered snow combined with rosehips, right?" he asked Snape before he raised the cup to his lips.

"That is right." Snape's voice was hoarse. "You recognized it from the smell?"

"Yes." Harry managed to swallow, but his throat stung. He gasped as the headache suddenly retreated into what felt like the corners of his skull. A second later, it was gone completely. "That's wonderful. You should patent that."

"It is for my private use." Snape folded his arms and stared at Harry. Harry squirmed for a second under his gaze, and then Snape added, "This is the first time that I've given it to someone else."

Harry paused, so that the words could throb in the silence the way he thought they deserved to. Then he nodded. "Thank you, sir."

Snape turned away and prowled around the room. Harry watched him. He wondered if he would be dismissed home, since Snape seemed irritated that he'd come for his lesson at all with the reaction pounding away in his head.

But Snape whirled back around and demanded abruptly, "You could recognize the ingredients of that potion from scent alone."

"Yes," Harry said. He wondered if Snape was about to take out the Veritaserum again to verify that, but Snape didn't.

"You were honest about you desire for my respect and to impress me."

"Yes, sir."

Snape made a harsh, dismissive motion with one hand, as though to say that Harry shouldn't speak the term of respect—but he would never do that, so Harry had to reckon it meant something else he didn't realize. "I want to know how much practice you have put into this when you are at home."

"Usually a few hours of reading a night and an hour of practice brewing each day."

"Outside of what I have you do here."

"Yes, sir."

Snape stepped up to him and stared at him. Harry stared back. He had no idea what Snape was trying to do, but he was welcome to read Harry's thoughts if he wanted. Harry had nothing to hide from him.

Unaccountably, that open honesty seemed to make Snape shy back further. He stared at the floor for a second, and shook his head as if arguing with himself. Then he turned back to Harry and said, "You will get an Outstanding on the Potions NEWT. I can promise you that now." Then Snape seemed to hold his breath, which made no sense.

"Thank you, sir." Harry thought for a second about the way to phrase it, and then added carefully, "I—would still like to come, if you want. I know that I haven't learned everything I could about brewing."

"But everything you _need_."

"I enjoy brewing," Harry said quietly. "I know I haven't learned as much as I could if I kept working with you. If you want me to leave, I will."

Snape hissed at him as though he was trying to learn Parseltongue and then kept pacing. Harry waited.

"You don't _need_ to be here."

"I _want_ to be."

Snape whirled around and came forwards to lean over Harry again the way he had when he was first giving him the Veritaserum. "No one says that to me! _No one enjoys my company_."

Harry widened his eyes. He would have thought that would be something Snape would have pride in saying, if he was still as young as he had once been, but he been around Snape for long enough now to hear the genuine anguish in his voice. He replied quietly, "I think they're fools, then, sir. _I_ enjoy it."

Snape glared at him and shifted back, as if a different angle would literally enable him to see Harry better. Harry sat there and only stared back. He didn't know what else he could do to convince Snape of his honesty. His eyes went to the vial of Veritaserum that was sitting on the shelves again, but he knew better than to suggest that a second time.

"You don't know anything about me," Snape whispered finally.

"I know that you're a great brewer," Harry replied. "I know that you're intelligent and brave. Thanks to your memories, I even know something about your childhood. And you know a lot about me because of the way that you had to protect me and read my mind when I was a kid. I don't know what deep dark secrets there are left to uncover, sir."

Snape closed his eyes. "You realize what they are saying about you, Potter?"

That unbalanced Harry. "No," he said, and he knew that Snape could hear the uncertainty in his voice. "What are they saying?"

Snape turned and picked up a paper from the table. It was the _Daily Prophet_ , which Harry hadn't read in months because of how hard he had been working at brewing. The picture on the front was of him, but it was a few years old, and paired with an old picture of Snape.

 _POTTER IN SECRET LOVE AFFAIR WITH FORMER HOGWARTS POTIONS MASTER?_

Harry choked and looked up at Snape. His hands were clenched on either side of the paper almost hard enough to rip it, and he had to swallow several times. But he managed to ask, "Are you upset about this for my sake, sir, or yours?"

"I never wished to have my name linked with yours in a _romantic_ fashion, Potter."

Harry made a decision, then, and stood up. Snape dropped his arms back where they'd been rising to shield his face and stared at him.

"You have the most unusually determined look on your face, Potter," he voiced after what seemed like an uneasy silence.

Harry swallowed. "I think being determined is pretty usual for me, sir," he replied, but he could see the joke fall flat. Snape was concentrated on him, waiting for something.

Harry hesitated once, then leaned forwards and touched Snape's scars for the first time. Snape stood frozen under his touch, not jerking away like Harry had been sure he would. Harry had time to run his fingers in one gentle circle before Snape did lean back.

"Are you mad, Potter?"

"No, sir. I want to touch you, and my only problem with the newspaper title is that they're using the present tense when it's not yet. Is that something _you_ want?"

Snape said nothing, instead standing there with his breath coming out so fast that he sounded like a snorting bull. Harry smiled and tentatively moved forwards again, but he didn't touch Snape this time. He only held his hand ready, and Snape was the one who leaned in to bring Harry's fingers into contact with his skin again.

His eyes slipped closed this time. Harry gently stroked, and learned the roughness of the scars, what they felt like, how they angled up Snape's neck, how they twisted and turned under his touch until running out completely up near Snape's ear and then down near his collarbone. He took his hand back at last and said softly, "I'd like to keep touching you, sir. If you want me to."

Snape stared at him in silence, with enormous eyes. Harry might have been able to read _his_ mind if his own Legilimency was any good. As it was, he kept on looking back, and waited. Snape had been alone for a long time. He might not want to be with Harry at all. Harry had no problem waiting.

Finally, Snape turned his head away and whispered, "Leave, Potter. I'll tell you later."

Harry nodded to him and walked out of the cottage. At least the headache and all the other symptoms from the Veritaserum reaction were completely gone now.

* * *

"I need to know more about why you want to be with me."

Harry stepped back and blinked, letting Snape in. He'd never expected the man to show up to his home. He hadn't even known that Snape knew where it was. "Hello, sir. Do you want something to eat or drink?"

"I want _answers_." Snape swung around, his eyes as intense as they were when he was trying to teach Harry something about finicky measurements. "I want to know why you want to be with me."

"Because you're smart and impressive," Harry said. "And I want to impress you-"

" _Not_ a good basis for a relationship, Potter."

"Because you agreed to teach me even though you probably didn't want to," Harry pushed on. "Because you're more forgiving than I thought you were, and you saved my life, and you're someone who was never impressed by my fame, and even because you wanted to talk about what I felt under Veritaserum, sir. And because I like the way you look."

Snape clamped his mouth shut. It had probably been open in an attempt to hurl another insult. Harry found himself smiling back at him for no reason at all.

"All of those sound like-either counterintuitive or highly strange reasons to want to be with someone, Potter."

"They all add up to: I enjoy your company, and I'd like more of it. Sir."

Snape reached out a hand, then stopped. Harry waited. Again, he couldn't make the decision for Snape. He was the one who would have to choose.

Snape's hand came to rest on Harry's face. Harry shivered. The very fact that this was someone who had loathed him and was willing to give him another chance, and the way that Snape's fingers shook for a second before he closed them into a fist, was _incredibly_ hot.

"You appear to really mean it."

"I do, sir-"

"I refuse to touch someone like this who calls me sir," Snape said flatly, although his hand didn't move away from Harry's cheek. But then he stood there and said nothing else.

 _It must be a step too far for him,_ Harry thought, and asked quietly, "Can I call you Severus?"

A moment as tense as being on a tightrope, and then Snape nodded. Well, no, Harry could think of him as Severus now. If he wanted.

 _Oh, I_ do _want_ , Harry thought, and stepped forwards and lifted his hands, shaping his fingers gently around the sides of Severus's face and his scars.

Severus made a low noise that quickly built up to a loud one. He jerked Harry forwards and kissed him, aggressively enough that Harry's head swam the way it had when he woke up with the Veritaserum reaction. He clutched Severus harder, and felt _his_ hands go down around his own hips and arse.

 _Yes, this is what I want,_ Harry thought dazedly, rough skin under his fingers and a rough tongue pushing into his mouth. _For right now,_ he added to himself, and then thrust his hips forwards to see what he might find.

A matching erection was the answer, and Severus broke away from the kiss and stared at him. Harry smiled back. Severus would have to get used to the fact that someone else wanted him, but Harry was smart enough not to say that right now.

"I want to go to the bedroom," Severus said, and his voice was deep enough that Harry felt the vibration of every word where their chests touched. "Where is it?"

Harry managed to turn his head in the direction of the right door. He was so breathless that he didn't think he could have spoken. Severus kissed him again to make sure of it, and then nudged him along with his hands on Harry's hips and arse.

 _It looks like he doesn't want to give up touching me any time soon,_ Harry thought happily, and tilted his head back so that his hair was brushing Severus's shoulder. The hands got more possessive. Harry wriggled and felt them tighten. He smiled again.

"And what should I call you?" Severus breathed into his ear. "'Annoying brat' no longer seems to fit."

"Call me Harry. Sir."

Severus shook him, once, but didn't back off, which made Harry hope that he could get away with joking a little. And Severus kept going when they got into the bedroom and didn't back off because Harry had left his socks lying on the floor that morning, which was a good sign.

He also had Harry sit down on the bed and watch him while he took his clothes off. Harry understood the silent challenge: part of him was still sure Harry wouldn't want him and would turn away when he saw him naked. Harry only raised his eyebrows and stared back boldly as he watched the pale, scarred skin revealed, and the long, lean limbs, and the way that Severus stood with his chin pointing down and his cock pointed up.

Harry only smiled and reached out to stroke Severus's cock, pretty sure he had permission now. Severus shut his eyes and hissed in pleasure, then shook his head and forced Harry's hand away.

"Do you want me to come before I get a chance to fuck you, Harry?"

Harry saw the way his shoulders hunched and his teeth ground together as he spoke both the word "fuck" and the first name. Harry just shook his head and said, "No," and then lay back on the bed and started taking his own clothes off.

Severus stood staring for a blank moment before he strode over and started helping. Harry handed him his robes and hid his grin as he watched Severus fold them and drape them neatly over a chair. That wasn't something Harry would have done, but it was another reason that Harry enjoyed being with him.

When Harry was completely naked, Severus stared at him with a blank expression. "What?" Harry asked him.

"Why does someone who looks as you do want to be with someone who looks as I do?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I like your company, I want to have sex with you, I like the way you look. Come _on_ , Severus."

Severus looked like he wanted to snap for a moment, and then nodded slowly. He reached out and traced his fingertips slowly over Harry's hipbone. Harry tilted his head back and hissed. It felt as though someone was painting fire across his skin.

Severus cast the spells that he needed to prepare Harry and get his cock slick with the same slowness. He climbed onto the bed, kneeled there, and looked down at Harry. Harry looked back and read the thought in Severus's eyes as clearly as if he _was_ a good Legilimens.

"It's okay," Harry said. "I really do want this. Promise."

Severus nodded, and bent down to kiss him. Then, finally, thank Merlin, he was inside Harry where he belonged. Harry got impatient and slid the rest of the way down when Severus paused as if he was going to ask another question.

But then he had to pause and adjust to the fullness, and Severus let him have that before he put his hands on Harry's shoulders and began to thrust into him. And then pound into him.

Severus was moving faster now, his face flushed, his lips slightly parted. Harry reached up and ran his fingers over Severus's cheeks and down his throat. It wasn't until he touched the scars that Severus shuddered and bowed his head a little.

"I'm sorry!" Harry blurted.

Severus looked up and shook his head, his lips parting again. "You-you are the first one since the Healers to touch them," he said, and then his hips jerked and he emptied himself into Harry with a long groan. Harry bucked up and felt a moment of pressure on his prostate before Severus's hand seized his cock.

A twist and another jerk and he was there with Severus, groaning himself as he finished. He tilted his head back and accepted the lazy kiss with gratitude. It brought him slowly back to himself from the spinning with pleasure.

"You are a wonder," Severus said, into the crook of his neck, so Harry wasn't sure he'd meant for Harry to hear.

Harry responded to it anyway. "So are you," he said, and trailed his fingers in circles along the scars, down Severus's shoulders, across as much of his spine as he could reach. Severus shivered. Harry grinned at him. "You want to stay here? I promise I can clean up the wet spot before it gets uncomfortable."

Severus lifted his head and gave him another of those long, searching looks. Harry just looked back. It was great having no quest for the Philosopher's Stone or the Chamber of Secrets to hide.

Severus finally nodded, and slid to the side. Harry fetched his wand and did what was needed to clean up, all while Severus watched him and blinked slowly.

Harry lay down next to him and closed his eyes. It took long moments before one of Severus's hands came to rest on his chest, but it did, and then Severus shifted a little closer.

Harry smiled. It might take a long time, but if he could learn to brew, he was going to learn this, too.

 **The End**.


End file.
